Sammy, I Will Always Be Your Older Brother
by Callisto-HK
Summary: Crowley had once said that the more he fought against the mark and his new desire to kill, the less better he'd feel; until he'd finally feel the least-best better! And lately he'd been fighting it alright and he could feel how quickly he was fading and he really really didn't wanna die. Yet. So that left just one option; they had to find a cure and they had to do it fast.


_**A/N: This clearly happens during season 10 and sometime before episode 17! So, yes, SPOILER ALERT!**_

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**. Sammy, I Will Always Be Your Older Brother .**

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"He tries to hide it, but I can see he's in pain, Cas and it's getting worse." Sam rubbed two fingers against his temple and willed the headache to go away.

"I know, Sam. I can feel the pain radiating from him every time we are in the same room." Cas confirmed gruffly. "Lately, it's been so tense that I fear his heart wouldn't be able to take it much longer."

Sam's eyes widened. He had no idea it'd been _that_ bad. A shudder ran down his spine; that meant they didn't have much time and dammit, he'd _not _ lose his brother. Not again. But... His heart could stop from the amount of pain he was dealing with? "I..." He looked disturbed. "The pain is that bad?"

Just then Castiel noticed that Sam hadn't been aware of the amount of pain Dean had been in without letting anyone know. "I apologize. I didn't know you had no idea how bad it really is."

"Cas, how _bad_ is it?"

"I just told you." Cas frowned. "I didn't mean to, of course, but it's just as I said."

"So you meant it literally?" The hunter now sounded terrified. "His heart could actually stop because of it?"

Cas looked away.

"Cas!" Sam growled.

Sighing, Cas looked back and stared at the youngest Winchester. "I'm sorry, Sam, but yes. I haven't tried to see how bad it actually is, but from what I've felt, I can say that his heart is getting weaker and the pain stronger. He doesn't have much time."

"O God." Sam grabbed at his hair and tried to calm down his breathing. "His... Damn. We gotta do something."

"We've looked everywhere." Cas pointed out.

"So what? We just let him die? Is that it?" Sam shouted, unable to control his fear and anger over the situation any longer.

"I did not say that."

"But that's what you meant."

"No. I will not give up on Dean." The angel frowned. Giving up wasn't an option; _Dean_ had taught him that, during the first few months after they met for the first time and giving up on Dean was just out of question.

Sam, who was pacing the room, sank into a chair and let his shoulders slump in despair. "But the pain..." He didn't know how to finish it.

Cas just nodded, looking just as desperate.

"There must be a way." Sam muttered.

The angel remained silent. Yes, he wasn't giving up and he was willing to try _any_thing, but they were running out of time and they were doing that rapidly by the look of Dean's deteriorating condition.

The older hunter hadn't slowed down yet; not even a little bit; if they found a case, Dean would be adamant about taking it; declaring that he'd keep doing it until he dropped dead; Cas hadn't been there to hear it himself, but Sam had told him about it.

And Dean was trying to hide his pain and all other problems that the mark was causing; including his depression and despair, but his body was getting weaker and it clearly had become harder to hide the winces and grimaces and everything else. They'd even caught Dean rubbing his chest, his head and his stomach at times and let's not forget how many times he'd been rubbing his right arm.

Pushing himself up, Sam went to the other side of the huge table and sat behind his laptop, resuming his research; his seemingly futile research. "There must be something somewhere. I must've just overlooked it." And he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more, Cas or himself.

Sighing, Cas nodded his head. "Yes. I'll go ask around some more. We'll find a way before it's too late."

"Damn right we will." Sam responded without looking up.

And Cas just walked out of the bunker. He didn't have any time to waste. He'd keep looking under every possible rock for a cure while Sam read every possible data about it.

Together they'd find a way; it didn't matter if so far they'd just come to dead ends or that those who might've known something had already told them that there was nothing to find. This was about Dean; failing wasn't an option.

...

"Sammy, I think I've found us a case." Dean announced as he walked into the big hall where Sam was sitting at the table, holding a coffee mug in one hand and pressing the keys on his laptop keyboard with the other.

"Yeah? What's it?" Sam asked casually, not really listening as Dean told him about it.

"Hey." Dean's shout made him look up.

Dean winced when he got a good look at his brother. "Man, you look like shit."

"Thank you." Sam grumbled. "Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Just an hour ago when I was taking a shower, which, by the way, you really need." He wrinkled his nose.

Sam actually looked down at his clothes and sniffed at his collar.

"Don't do that, you'll pass out." Dean warned.

Rolling his eyes, Sam groaned, "Shut up."

"Seriously, man. You're gonna have calluses on your ass if you don't move from that chair. Come on, get up. Go take a shower and meet me in the car in... Say, 40 minutes. Move it. Move-"

"Dean." Sam cut his brother off. "Why don't you take care of this one yourself? I'm not feeling so hot." That wasn't really a lie.

"No wonder. You just sniffed at your clothes when I told you not to and you've been sitting there for the last... I don't even know how long. Move your ass and let's get the hell out of this cave. You need fresh air."

"Dean, no."

"Sam, yes. Move it or I'll drag you out by your hair." Dean threatened as he walked out, not giving his brother any more time to complain.

Closing the laptop's lid with more force than needed, Sam pushed himself up and walked towards his room to get a clean set of clothes.

He wanted to be mad at Dean for not letting him do his research, but he knew this was Dean's way to look after him and he knew that Dean knew what he was doing, so it was clear that while the older man wouldn't voice it outright, he wasn't happy with how Sam was looking for answers and how he was working himself into the ground for it.

Damn Dean and his stupid, crooked priorities; he could never put himself first.

The thought of not having Dean and his protectiveness around made Sam's chest hurt.

Why couldn't Dean understand that he couldn't just stop searching? Why couldn't Dean fight harder? Do something; like, trying to look for answers just like him; asking around. Anything.

But no, Dean had stopped doing that; he didn't do anything about it; after the confrontation with Cain, Dean had just given up. Sam had lost count of the number of times he'd been told he couldn't save everyone and that sometimes he just had to let go. Even once, his stupid brother had told him that once it was over and he was dead, Sam was to burn his body immediately to make sure he wouldn't come back.

Like it was that easy. Like it was any other job. Like it was even an option.

If anything, he'd bring Dean back and before he could turn all demonic, he'd purify his blood again and restart the fight against the mark. He wasn't going to let Dean down. Not again; he'd done that a lot in the past; it was time he actually saved him for a change.

...

Brushing his teeth for the second time that day, Dean once again tried to get rid of the taste of blood and vomit in his mouth and then splashed some water on his face to look a bit fresher; but with how pale he looked, he doubted anyone would buy his act of _'everything-is-fine'_.

Taking a deep breath, he left the bathroom and walked back to his room to lie down for a while; he'd still have some minutes before Sam was done taking his shower and getting ready to leave for the new case, which admittedly didn't seem like one of theirs; he was just looking for an excuse to make Sam leave the bunker and maybe force him to get some sleep on the way; that was why the case he'd _found_ was practically across the country. That'd give them some time on the road which would mean some forced shut-eye for his little brother.

Sighing, he once again grimaced as he lay on the bed and curled up, pressing a hand against his abdomen.

The stupid mark was taking its toll on his body and he wasn't sure how much longer he could take it.

He sure didn't want the blade back in his hand, but without it, he was bound to get weaker and weaker until, according to Crowley, he'd just feel _'the least-best better'!_

Dead!

Damn! For some reasons he really didn't want to die now.

Maybe it was because he and Sam had finally started to be brothers again; after years, ages even, they'd once again started to speak the same language and he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't enjoying every single moment of it.

For the first time in ages, he actually felt that Sam was really there for him and that he meant it when he said he'd find a way to save Dean; he most probably wouldn't be able to do so, but as lame as it sounded, it was the thought that counted.

The last time that Sam had been so determined to save him was actually before he'd become the Hellhounds' chew toy and look what happened after that! Sam'd lost himself in his grief which consequently created a chain of problems; it took them _years_ to get back to the place where they were before; to put aside all their differences and anger and everything that had come between them. Hell, they'd _just_ got back there; he was so not ready to lose it again and he didn't want to think what would happen to his brother when he realized that once again there'd been no way to prevent the inevitable.

Those were his two main reasons why he didn't want to die now; why he wasn't ready yet. But then again, when had he _ever_ got what he'd wanted or wished for? That's right. Never! Not since he was a little boy, wishing for a brother, at least!

And now he might end up disappointing the same brother again, by dying, by not being strong enough to fight along with him, by leaving him behind again.

Pushing himself up from the bed, Dean grabbed his duffel bag and walked out of his room to wait for Sam in his beloved Impala. For now, he had to put his game face on; he had to be strong for Sam and he had to make him think he was doing just perfect; maybe then the younger man would get some sleep.

Little did he know that Sam'd already heard about Dean's deteriorating health condition from Castiel.

...

Despite his reluctance to follow Dean to the new hunt, Sam found himself in the car next to his brother who looked a little pale and kinda sweaty, but stoic and calm.

He wanted to bring Dean's shitty look up, but when he saw how hard Dean was trying to look fine, he decided against it.

Dean was obviously trying his damnedest to hide the truth from him and maybe it was the only thing pushing him forward; maybe in his determination to look fine for Sam's sake, Dean would fight longer to look better than he actually felt and maybe that was what they needed; because it was clear that in any other ways, Dean had mostly given up.

So, no, Sam didn't mention Dean's look or the pain he knew he was suffering from, letting Dean fight to hide it, because he needed Dean to fight, for any reason possible .

.

The stupid case turned out to be a false alarm.

They'd just wasted two days on the road and two days in that stupid town for nothing. And now they had to waste another two days just to get back home.

Well, at least he could get some more sleep. Sam thought with himself as he leaned against the door and let his thoughts wander again. He'd been so tired that almost the entire ride to that town he'd slept; and then he got more sleep while they stayed in a motel, trying to make sure it wasn't something they could work on and solve and now he seemed to be nodding off again. He couldn't help it, though; something about the car and Dean's presence by his side was so comforting that he always found it easy to fall asleep while they were on the road.

And besides, he told himself, he was going to need as much energy as possible when they were back to the bunker; he wasn't going to get much rest there; he had research to do; so it was only rational to take as much rest as possible while he could.

Before drifting off, he caught a look of satisfaction on Dean's face and absently wondered if Dean'd known all along that there wasn't any case for them and that it'd been just a ploy to make him rest. That did sound like Dean and that was kinda heartwarming. A smile lifted the corner of Sam's mouth when his eyelids finally closed.

He deliberately ignored the pessimistic sound in his head that told him that he might not have Dean around much longer to play tricks on him just to make sure he wouldn't kill himself trying to find a nonexistent answer.

Watching his brother from the corner of his eye, Dean smiled when he saw he'd once again succumbed to tiredness.

The kid must've been dead tired to be able to sleep so much and it was a clear sign that Dean had made the right decision by forcing him out of the bunker.

His smiled turned bitter, sad and then disappeared when he realized soon he might not be there to do that for his baby brother and that thought alone scared him because then who'd make sure Sammy was OK? Sure, Sammy was actually _Sam_ and a grown-up, perfectly capable of taking care of himself and even a family if he had one; but that wasn't the point; the point was that after the recent incidents, he'd realized that Sam was in one of those moods when he wouldn't give up until he either got what he wanted or he got himself killed in the process; and as nice as it was to know that Sam was caring so much about him again that he wouldn't just give up on him, Dean didn't want his brother dead, because the other alternative seemed just impossible, didn't it? There was simply no way Sam could get what he wanted this time. There was no light at the end of this tunnel; no hope, no...

He sighed and clenched the steering wheel with his right hand as his left hand went to his chest to rub it. He stole a quick glance at Sam to make sure he was still asleep before he let the excruciating pain show on his face.

In order to distract himself, he started to think about the last few months and for no particular reason his mind went back to when he'd regressed to a younger version of himself. Smirking when he remembered Sam's look as he listened to that Taylor Swift song even after he got his real body back, he eyed the radio and wondered if he could find another one of those songs when Sam was awake. It just felt so good to tease Sam like that; it made him feel free; feel like his old self, when they didn't have the weight of the world on their shoulders; literally.

Those years were good actually and as much as he hated puberty or his new size -or old size, whatever- he, at least, had been mark-free when he'd de-aged. He hadn't had the mark when he'd been fourteen, so of course he'd be free of it and its burden in that body.

His eyes widened as a thought developed in his head and got shaped.

"Holy shit." He exclaimed loudly as his left foot pressed hard against the brake pedal and the car came to an abrupt halt.

"What?" Sam startled awake and quickly scanned the area. His gun had somehow found its way into his hand. "What's it? What's wrong?" He then turned around when he didn't see a visible threat anywhere and his heart leaped into his throat as he looked at Dean's face. Dean was staring ahead and was... Was he shaking? O God, was he in pain? Was he having a heart attack? Was he dying?

"Dean?" Sam quickly put his gun down and grabbed his brother's shoulder. "Dean, what's wrong? Are you alright? Are you in pain?"

Dean's head turned towards him and he had this weird look in his eyes. "Sam, I think I've got an idea."

"You've-... What?" Sam was momentarily speechless. "What the hell, man? You gave me a heart attack just because you've got a stupid idea?"

"It's not stupid." Dean defended. "In fact, I think it's pretty awesome. Brilliant, really."

Taking a few deep breaths, Sam tried to calm his frayed nerves. "I think I really _really_ hate you right now. Would it kill you to wake me up like a normal person and then share your ideas?"

Dean rolled his eyes. Sam and his dramas! "Just hear me out."

"Well, we're literally in the middle of the road." Sam took a look around. Luckily, at that hour of night, there wasn't any other car to hit them from behind when his brother had stopped the car like that. "Pull over and talk. It's not like I can ever go back to sleep again."

Dean actually listened and pulled the car over before turning the ignition off and turning around in his seat to look at his brother. He wanted to see the look on Sam's face when he told him about his idea. He wanted to see it in his eyes if Sam actually thought what he was going to suggest was possible or would just lie for his sake.

"OK, er, you remember the case when I turned into my teenager self and suddenly took an interest in Taylor Swift?"

Sam winced at the last reminder. Yes, he remembered that and he didn't want to go back to it again, thank you very much. "Hard to forget. Please tell me this isn't about some stupid urge to go and meet Taylor Swift to get a signature or something? Is that your awesome idea? You've got a bucket list or something now?" His tone didn't betray the dread he felt at that thought.

"Huh?" Dean frowned. "Why would I-... Huh?" Shaking his head, Dean growled. "I'm not you, Sam. I don't do these girly things. And just why would someone want her signature? What could they do with it?"

"Well, then what's with reminiscing?" Sam asked instead of pointing out that he would never do those things either.

"Well, I was getting there before you decided to come up with ridiculous thoughts." Dean growled. "Anyway, the thing is I didn't have the mark then, right?"

Sam's eyes darkened. This was about the mark? He studied his brother with confusion. "We've been over this, Dean. You couldn't have stayed 14."

"True." Dean nodded his head. "But what about 34?"

"Huh?"

"OK, here's the thing... When I was 14, I didn't have the mark; so when I had my younger body, I was free from it, even though I was practically still this old me." He paused to make sure Sam was following him so far, when Sam tilted his head and shrugged, Dean continued, "Well, I didn't have the mark two years ago, either." He said excitedly.

"So?" Sam frowned.

"So?" Dean shook his head. "So, Einstein, if we find a way to make me regress to my 34 year old self, then I must become mark-free again and two years are not even that much; I wouldn't even look that different and everything will be perfect."

Sam could feel that his breathing was getting shallow. Holy shit. That could actually work. That could actually be their way out of this mess; the thing they'd missed all along. Damn Damn Damn. "Holy shit." He just exclaimed.

Dean grinned happily, and damn, Sam had missed that real, happy grin. "Exactly."

"This could actually work."

"Uh-huh." Dean nodded.

"Wow, it'll be just like System Restore in Windows."

"Yes." Dean continued to nod before stopping suddenly. "What?"

"Huh?... Um, nothing." Sam shook his head. "O my God. Dean, this could actually work. You were right, this _is_ a brilliant idea. Man, you're a genius."

"OK, OK. Calm down." Dean laughed and for the first time since forever, it sounded carefree and real. "First, we gotta find a witch who'd know the spell and would be willing to help us without asking for our souls or something like that in return."

"Hmmm..." Sam nodded absently, already making a list of their options.

"Or we could call Cas." Dean added. "Although, I doubt he has the power to do that himself."

"He might know someone."

"Cas knowing a nice witch; yeah, sounds possible." Dean snickered.

"Well, he could know a witch who owed him one... Or... Or he could _make_ them work with us. At the very least, he could help us look for one and he'd also be relieved to know there's a huge chance of saving you."

That made Dean calm down in his excitement, but the smile that adorned his face was genuine and grateful. "Let's go back to the bunker. This damn thing's controlled our lives for way too long already." He started the car, his smile still on his face.

"Yep. Let's get rid of it. I'll call Cas." Sam grabbed his phone to call the angel. "Hey, Dean?" He said before pushing the call button.

"Hmm?"

"You'll be just two years older than me when it's over." Sam chuckled.

Dean looked at his right and shook his head. "No, you moron, I'll be still 4 years older than you; it'll be just my body that gets younger not me or my mind. Besides, even two years, is still two _years_. I'll always be your older brother."

_And let's keep it that way._ Sam thought with a happy laughter. "The witch we find could always make a mistake and turn you into a baby."

"Uh-huh. And you'll be the one stuck with a baby; you know that, right? I mean I won't be an obedient, subdued kid this time around. I'll demand for everything that I couldn't have the first time."

It was meant as a joke, but Sam felt his chest tightened at hearing it. That was right; his brother had been robbed of his childhood at age four. He had never had anything for himself and yet he'd always tried to make sure Sam had the things he wanted.

"Hey, snap out of it. I was joking. Geez, you're such a drama queen." Dean groaned when he saw his retort had rendered his brother silent. "Let's just make sure I won't go back any further than 2 years. Huh?"

Sam swallowed and pushed those saddening thoughts and memories down. "Yeah. Umm, let's find our witch first."

Dean smiled and patted Sam's shoulder.

"Oh, boy." Sam laughed. "When this is over," he didn't say '_if'_, because he was sure it was the real solution this time and he wasn't going to jinx it with negative thoughts, "You won't be able to say you hate witches anymore."

"I can't promise anything, but I'll make sure to exclude the one who helps us, any time I mention my hatred for them." Dean grinned. "Now make that call. We're gonna need help to find a trustworthy witch." He paused and frowned at his own words. "Man, that totally sounded like an oxymoron."

Chuckling, Sam shook his head and dialed Castiel's number. "Umm, hey, Cas. Listen. We need your help. Seems like Dean just solved our problem." He smiled broadly at his brother. "Well, just get your ass to the bunker and we'll explain everything to you... Yeah, we'll meet you there tomorrow morning. We're on our way... Yeah, see you. Oh and Cas, start making a list of witches that could be trusted with something big... You'll find out soon. Just do it, please." He ended the call with a huge grin on his face, knowing that pretty soon, they'd finally be out of this disastrous situation that had been taking his brother away from him.

They could breathe freely again and then, _together,_ they'd continue to kill as many sons of bitches as they possibly could; or as Dean'd put it so many years ago; they'd go back to just saving people; hunting things; the family business.

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**... The End ...**

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**_A/N: I know things will never go this way; for one thing, I'm not that lucky! But well, to me it sounded like a possible way to get rid of the mark.  
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**_Not that I want them to get rid of the mark; I REALLY like this SL! Dean is finally having something for himself! But I don't like the other alternatives that come to mind; like, I don't know, Dean actually killing Sam, or even trying to do so, at the end and making Sam the Abel of this story line! Or just passing the mark to someone else close to him and ruining the SL abruptly! Things like that, you know?!  
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**_So, let me know what YOU think._**

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**All mistakes are mine.**

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